


Waterways

by codename_adler



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish Loves Ronan Lynch, CDTH not taken into consideration, Kind of Canon Compliant, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, One Shot, Pre-Epilogue, Ronan Lynch Loves Adam Parrish, Ronan and Adam have a heart to heart, Spoilers, The importance of communication, graphic depiction of wounds, kinda very angsty, lots of feelings, post-trk, pynch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25001911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codename_adler/pseuds/codename_adler
Summary: “Parrish!”Adam’s head snapped to his right as he heard Ronan’s shout upstairs. He’d really been invested in whatever bullshit the doctors were pulling in the few minutes he’d paid attention. But now it was time. Go face the music, Parrish. Except the music was the fucking Murder Squash song.OR... Immediately after Gansey comes back to life, the gang, especially Ronan and Adam, have to pick up the pieces. Involving Pynch playing doctor but not it the way you think...
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	Waterways

**Author's Note:**

> All the characters and canon plots are owned by Maggie Stiefvater. This is only my take on what happened between the finale and the epilogue. I chose to write as if Call Down the Hawk was not a thing. Also, this is my first work on this fandom AND on Ao3 :o Have a good read!

Blue had the courage of calling the Gray Man to come and pick them up. Nobody wanted to get back inside the Pig. Nobody wanted to drive. Not even Ronan. Adam wasn’t sure he could even drive in the state he was; this wasn’t a six-pack of beer in his system. This was an _unmaking_. Plus, Adam didn’t trust himself - his hands - to take the wheel.

They were lying on the grass, still on the side of the road. Gansey held Blue close to his chest, her head tucked in the crook of his neck. She was still crying. No, _sobbing_. Gansey let tears roll down his face, too. On his other side, Ronan laid his head on Gansey’s extended arm, eyes closed. His chin was tilted just enough towards the sky that Adam knew he was trying to seal his emotions shut. Both his palms were flat on the ground, fingers stroking ever so slightly the dirt and the grass strands. Henry was not far away from their spot, lying on his stomach and hiding his face in his arms. Orphan Girl was sitting at Ronan’s feet, digging up insects and grass and little rocks. The hole in the ground was slowly but surely getting wider, yet she kept her eyes fixed on Ronan, barely looking at her findings.

Looking at this trembling paysage, Adam couldn’t deny he had been the painter behind all of this. He had held the brush that struck these young lives of colors they should not have seen for many more years. Adam knew these colors since childhood, had kept himself from mentioning them out loud, yet he had unleashed them on the people he thought he cared about the most. Because that’s what a Parrish knew how to do best.

Adam focused his attention on Ronan. This might be the last time he could ever look at him like that, although Adam didn’t want to let that thought reach the top of his mind. Ronan’s hands had gone still, but tension still lingered in the wrinkles of his forehead and the flutter behind his eyelids. What was his seeing? Adam’s hands, no longer shining with the light of his reverence for them but rather casting a shadow on his perfect representation of Adam? Or Adam’s eyes, twitching and rolling and trying to watch all of the group crumble to ashes? Under all his fears that these were the visions plaguing Ronan, Adam thought that he was probably giving himself more importance than he should, the near-death experience and the real death and resurrection of Gansey scarring enough for a thousand lifetimes and ranking much higher than the brief demonic possession of a friend.

 _Demon. Death. Resurrection._ Those words would now be common knowledge between their group. They would have a picture to put next to the definition in their dictionary. But _Ronan_ next to _friend_? Adam honestly didn’t know anymore. It did not compute in his complex and rational system. All his algorithms didn’t predict this, couldn’t predict it anymore. He’d been shaken upside down twice in too few days; his world had to recover from two earthquakes to settle back into a new reality Adam wasn’t sure he could navigate. Dreamers and ley lines and magic had been fine; they were a very ancient sort of science, with a sort of meaning. Finally opening up and letting go and falling for Ronan, immediately followed by having him almost snatched away for good by his own hands and unmade by his demon; Adam was cut open wide and thorn to pieces, and he didn’t know where nor how to stitch himself back in one piece that resembled who he’d once been. Adam felt as if he’d been laid bare and burnt at the stake, but was now expected to go on with a new and ugly face, and an ache so profound that his mind hurt too from his wounds. Adam’s heart had split in two. He felt like dying.

xxx

Ronan was having an internal monologue so unlike Adam’s that it could’ve been almost comical to Noah, if he’d still been among them... Ronan didn’t care that he’d almost died with Gansey. He was alive, they were all alive alive alive. Even the loss of Aurora, and Noah's, couldn’t reach him yet. He wanted everyone close, he was alive and surrounded and not alone. He could feel Gansey’s pulse at the base of his neck, he could hear the maggot struggling with her breath, he could see Orphan Girl’s healthy face at his feet, even Cheng’s presence not far from their hands didn’t bother him. He could sense Adam’s eyes, too. He was the farthest. _He should be the closest_ , Ronan’s heart had echoed. 

Ronan kept his eyes shut, trusting or hoping or praying that nobody would disappear in the meantime. He just couldn’t bear the images his eyes were sending to his brain AND the ones his brain supplied him with by itself. It was too much. His mind was fireworks, kaleidoscopes, grenades, white lights and rollercoasters. There was no point in trying to focus on this shitshow. Good or bad, he let the visions free, the thoughts race. 

He was, after all, the best street-racer there was. 

He thought of Chainsaw, where she was right now, if she’d run away for good, if she’d be mad at him or glad, if she was hungry. 

He thought of Matthew, of how he would have to call Declan soon, but not now, and how he’d have to let go of that hidden truth about his little brother’s origins, how he wished his hands were in Matthew’s curls instead of in the grass, how he was looking forward to hearing his incessant babbles and watch his smile and feel his arms around his waist.

He thought of Gansey, and Blue, about their presence so close to him, and how that thought of Blue and Gansey was just enough for him; he didn’t need to dig deeper there or look for questions. They were here, and it was enough.

He thought of Orphan Girl, and how that little brat would be such a handful to watch over, but there was no going back and it didn’t scare him that she, like Matthew, would be a permanent figure of his future. He didn’t think of himself as her dad, fuck no, nor her brother, God knows he sucked at that, but she was just family now somehow, and he knew that he would swear and grumble and complain while trying to fucking raise her, but he was going to be there every step of the way. Also she really needed a goddamn name.

He thought of Adam. Just that. The hands. The eyes. The freckles. The shoulders. The cheeks. The nose. The lips. But Adam fucking Parrish was a cliff his mind could not escape. He let himself fall like Icarus, or whatever. 

Ronan wouldn’t have guessed that Adam would play the “I’m trash and so bad and I’m a danger to society” card after the grand finale of their quest, but having looked at him detached from their pile of limbs, he now knew exactly how the boy would act until someone snapped their fingers to magically bring him back to reality. And hell yeah, Ronan would fucking do it, he'd be the magician for once. He couldn’t decide if Parrish had the worst or best luck in the universe. Having so much shit coming his way and somehow always getting out of it without the worst scenario happening, yet always losing something in the victory. And that was without Adam’s bullshit philosophy of my-best-is-never-enough and his the-world-deserves-everything-but-not-me attitude. If Ronan couldn’t survive facing his grief and anger for his mother and Noah, he would gladly use the rage he had towards Adam’s constant woes as fuel to keep going.

xxx

Mr. Gray finally pulled up by the Pig. It was time to move, to move on. Later, nobody would remember what the Gray Man had said or done. Each one of them was in a buzzing cocoon just on the verge of bursting open. Nobody knew what would come out. 

Adam didn’t rush to the car, but he didn’t let anyone else ride shotgun either. He felt obligated to distance himself from the others. Henry, Blue, Gansey, Ronan and Orphan Girl squished themselves in the backseat, too stunned still to let themselves be distracted by Adam’s behavior. Blue was sitting half on Henry, half on Gansey. Ronan, Orphan Girl curled in his lap, had his arm nonchalantly lying around Gansey’s shoulders, like a shy boy on a first date at the movies. Adam knew better than to believe the coincidence of the gesture. Ronan and Gansey were wolves of the same pack, blood of the same pact. Ronan had lost so much, still expected losing everything, that he had to make sure Gansey was not a trick of his dreams and that nobody could take him away again. Adam wished Ronan’s other arm was wrapped around him. He was drifting away from the gang as miles passed towards 300 Fox Way. He didn’t stop himself. He had lost every right to stay. 

Ronan’s hand experienced some spasms as the car drove in silence, his fingers sporadically clutching Gansey’s shoulder. _Still here. Still here._ Ronan did not speak. Not that he had anything to say. Even that little voice in his head was quiet. Still, his mind compensated the silence with vivid images. _Blue cradling Gansey’s gray face._ No. _A distorted sky covered in black ooze._ No. _Orphan Girl’s broken wails._ No. _Aurora's corpse._ No. _Adam fighting to get free of his ties._ No. _Adam._ It was too much for Ronan. It had been too much for a long time now, but this was his breaking point. _Adam. Adam. Adam._ Ronan didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He didn’t know what he needed. He just _needed_. An escape, a relief, a breath. Anything to fill him up. He prayed.

xxx

All the Fox Way women were outside, waiting, bickering, pacing. Mr. Gray got out and opened the door for Ronan and the Orphan Girl. Not a word from Ronan. Henry Cheng opened the other backseat door to let out Blue and Gansey. A thousand voices exploded in the driveway. Adam remained shut out in the car. 

He really wished Persephone could have been there. Adam realized she was the only one he’d like to talk to right now. Only she would know what to say to a hollow boy ready to be blown away by the slightest gust of wind. Adam reached for her tarot deck inside his back pocket, unbuckling his seatbelt in doing the process. He displayed them in his hands, the figures facing him. _What would they say now? Was the battle over? Was his purpose fulfilled? Was he useless now? Were they going to be okay?_

He looked out the window. Ronan sat on the front stairs, Orphan Girl curled in the space between his knees. Orla was sizing Henry up and down. Maura, Calla, Jimi and Mr. Gray circled Blue and Gansey. Well, he presumed Blue was in the middle, for her head could not be seen among the embraces and bodies. Gwenllian laid by Blue’s tree, or father, he should say. Adam did not belong here.

For once in his life, Ronan despised the loud noises, coming from the psychics, and the birds and the cars and everything. Chainsaw had found her way back to him, but she kept silent. _Good girl._ Orphan Girl, her head barely topping his knees from where she sat on the step below him, was taking everything in with her big, bright eyes. She, too, kept silent. _Good Girl._ He couldn’t seem to find his balance since the events of his unmaking and everything that came with it. Maybe since a bit before that. Maybe since his father’s death, even. Ronan glanced up to the Gray Man’s Mitsubishi. Adam was still sat inside, staring at something in his lap. His gaze met Ronan’s, as though he felt eyes on him. Immediately after Adam looked at Ronan, he lowered his eyes back down, his head sinking and shoulders sagging. This wouldn’t do. Ronan, while remaining seated, found Blue with his eyes and stared at her until she stared back. He flicked his gaze towards Adam and the car, then back to Blue. She nodded. He nodded back. She understood.

Blue squeezed Gansey’s hand one more time before untangling herself from her family, heading for the passenger door of the Mitsubishi. She softly tapped the window with her finger. Adam’s head shot up, but not as rapidly as if he’d been caught off guard. He looked at Blue through the window, seemingly unwilling to move out. Blue slowly pulled the door handle. It opened quietly. Adam simply lifted his head to meet her eyes. She glanced at the deck in his hands, and extended one of hers. Blue helped Adam out of the car, and out of his seclusion. 

Ronan watched everything from afar. Ronan thought that, from above the sky, he and Adam must look like the opposite poles of the strange world that was their group. If they were to crash into each other at this moment, the world would blow up with them. But their time was not up. Yet.

As Blue led Adam by the hand, Maura Sargent migrated away from the group to welcome her daughter’s friend. She never quite knew how to deal with Coca-Cola, but Persephone did and that meant something. In fact, as she glanced down she, too, saw her sister’s deck. Persephone was, perhaps, still with them, still teaching the boy, still guiding him. This dusty yet golden boy was now part of all their lives and it would do no good to keep him away. Maura stepped closer to Adam and took the hand where he clutched the cards. She placed her other hand on top and squeezed, lightly. So many words needed to be spoken.

“Thank you, Adam. For bringing my daughter back, and everything else. Somehow I know you were what tipped the balance in our favor. Persephone knew what she was doing with you. She chose well. Keep her safe with you, yeah?” Maura softly spoke as she pressed their hands together one more time.

Adam looked at her blankly. His mouth hung slightly open. Maura Sargent released his hand, and the tarot deck, and left him to his thoughts, but not before turning back again.

“Oh and Adam? You did good.”

xxx

Too many things needed to be taken care of. Everyone headed inside the house and took a seat from the kitchen to the living room. Blue and Gansey needed to go to the hospital, accompanied by Maura, for new stitches and a full check-up. Ronan and Adam needed it too, but they were Ronan and Adam, so that was a no from their part. Mr. Gray and Orla would have to go back for the Camaro as Gansey, without being insistent, had made it known that it would very much ease his nerves to know his Pig was safe at 300 Fox Way while he was away at the hospital. Henry Cheng said he needed to call his mother and that from there, he’d know what to do with himself. Adam just wanted a shower.

Everyone more or less agreed to meet back at 300 Fox Way when they were all stitched and clean, whatever the time was, to talk about the elephant in the room. Everybody knew it’d be no use to try and sleep without unburdening their hearts. Given that the heart-to-heart would take place in a house full of psychics, both Adam and Ronan wondered, without telling each other, if it would turn out like a therapy session or like an angelic ritual. 

It felt like an eternity before each person went to do what they said they’d do. That left Ronan on the living room carpet, his back resting against one of the sofas, Orphan Girl drooling on his thigh, Gwenllian in the attic, Henry in the garden, Jimi and Calla by the stairs and Adam on a kitchen stool, elbows on the kitchen island, head in his hands, eyes closed. He had to move too, he had to walk back to St. Agnes to shower and get back here before the rest of them. It’s just that right now, he couldn’t move. _One more minute_ , he thought to himself, _just one more and I get up_. Adam heard shuffling in the hallway beside the stairs and opened his eyes when something was put down in front of him.

_Lavender soap. Ha._

“Go scrub, Magician”, Calla said, Jimi eyeing him behind her back.  
Adam exhaled and slowly glanced at Ronan. The boy had his eyes closed, head resting on the sofa.  
“We’ll watch your precious Snake. Everything you need’s up in the bathroom. Well, ‘cept decent clothes and- C’mon, get going, magic boy.” Calla pointed the stairs, shaking her head.

Adam quietly obeyed, careful not to wake up Ronan. He passed Jimi by the stairs, tiptoeing around her crooked and knowing smile. The bathroom was very big, which made sense considering the amount of people living in this house. Yet it was shrunk by the multitude of products and trinkets and salts and incenses popping from everywhere. So much colors and plants, too. 

Adam purposely avoided looking in the mirrors, both because he didn’t want to look at himself knowing he looked like shit, and because he didn’t want to look at himself knowing he _felt_ like shit. He stripped down, took the bar of soap with him and tried to get in the overstocked shower without knocking anything down. He was still attacked by a blue shampoo bottle diving on his little toe. He swore.

The water was hot, nothing like St. Agnes’. He was careful around his mangled cheek. but still rough. _You deserve this. Don’t complain. Scrub harder._ As if some calming soap could wash away his sins. _Tss. Don’t think. Shut up. Don’t think. Wash, get out, shut up._

But the boiling waterfall was numbing to Adam. He pressed his head against the wall. He lost track of time. He was almost scrying, or sleeping. He came back to his body when another bottle hit his back. Guilt immediately washed over him, turned the water from hot wave to burning acid. He finished scrubbing away dirt and blood and grease, only leaving shame on his skin. After drying himself with no more gentleness than a car wash's, he reluctantly put his old clothes back on and prepared himself to go face whatever awaited him downstairs.

He dropped the towel in a white basket full of towels and other… lady things. He opened the door. Ronan was there. Sat on the wooden floor, a bunch of clothes in his lap, he looked directly into Adam’s eyes.

“Sleep good?” Adam asked, mouth dry.  
“Could ask you the same thing. Sure took your sweet time in there.” Ronan replied without missing a beat, a mocking smile on the corner of his mouth. Adam blushed, mentally slapping himself. _It’s not what you think. I didn’t…_ Adam decided not to try and explain himself. He had no excuse for taking this long. Ronan desperately needed to clean himself more than Adam. Dried blood and black ooze still covered most of his body.

“Sorry. Kinda zoned out. I’ll let you… Sorry.” Adam mumbled, looking at his naked feet. Suddenly, Ronan got up and extended his arm. Looking up, Adam saw that he was handing him some of the clothes he'd brought.  
“Cheng asked if we needed anything while he went to Litchfield to get some things. Told him to stop by Monmouth for Gansey and I. And you. Dick doesn’t really have non-preppy clothes, so don’t bitch if mine don’t fit.” Ronan explained while shoving black sweatpants and a black long-sleeved t-shirt in his arms. Black boxers were sandwiched between the two. _Shit_. Cheng had had the time to go do his things, pick up his car AND go fetch supplies back at Monmouth while Adam was in the shower. Adam clutched the clothes against his chest, flushing with shame.  
“Oh. Thanks. I could’ve gone... I’m sorry I took so long.”  
“Parrish. Dick and Jane will be at the hospital till way into the night. And they’ll need to clean up too once they’re back. Hopefully not together, those disgusting a-holes. Plus, I couldn’t have risked you running away. Point is, there’s no rush. We have time, Parrish.”  
“Yeah, okay. I’ll leave you be. Don’t drown, Lynch. I’m too tired to come and do CPR on you.” Adam told Ronan without looking at him.  
“Ha. Don’t tempt me.”  
‘Just so you know… I wouldn’t have done it. Run away. I wouldn’t have…”  
Adam went to turn and go downstairs, but Ronan interrupted his plan.  
“Hum, Parrish?”  
“Yeah, Lynch?”  
“I’m gonna need help.” Ronan said, gesturing to his wounds, holding his head high to mask the uncertainty in his eyes.  
“Oh. Do you want me to…?” Adam tried, vaguely pointing downstairs.  
“Yes, Parrish. Go get fucking Cheng to talk me to death while stitching me up with fucking Hello Kitty band-aids. Or better! Fetch the old hags to tell me how much of a fuck-up and a snake I am while they put fucking tea on my cuts. Jesus fuck, nevermind, Parrish.”

Ronan turned to slam the bathroom door, but Adam caught it with his hand two inches before it closed. A millisecond later and his fingers would’ve been crushed.  
“Wait. Are you sure? I can’t guarantee…” Adam slowly said, staring at Ronan’s neck. Ronan caught that.  
“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Wouldn’t have asked otherwise. Get the fuck over yourself, Parrish. It’s over. Demon’s gone. Back to boring.” Ronan spat.  
“Okay. Fine. What do you need?” Adam replied with as much venom. He agreed more because Ronan could still get a rise out of him rather than because he truly thought he could do no harm.  
“Bandages. Sewing thread. Polysporin. Alcohol,” he listed. Adam rose his eyebrow at the last one. Ronan rolled his eyes. “Rubbing alcohol, Parrish. I’m fucked enough for the day, I’m not stupid enough to kick myself into a hangover.”  
“You sure? You kinda own the Stupid Department.” Adam taunted.  
“Yeah, yeah, nerd. Now fuck off, we got shit to do.”

The corner of Adam’s mouth lifted a little bit and Ronan mirrored his expression. Adam removed his hand and let it fall at his side as Ronan quietly closed the bathroom door. Adam went back down. He thanked Henry Cheng, who was now sporting white sweatpants and a purple Madonna sweater. He then asked Calla for the things Ronan had mentioned. She told him she would add medical tape, and that she’d add Advil too if she thought it was safe to numb the pain, but explained that for the next 24h it was probably best if nobody took any pills, to be aware of anything out of the ordinary. There’d be some soothing tea later, though. While she rummaged through the house, Adam changed in the laundry room and carefully folded his dirty clothes. He instantly felt better. It might’ve been the too-long sleeves, the softness and quality of the fabric, or the warmness of the pants. It was _not_ the woodsy, leathery, spicy scent that whispered _Ronan_ , that felt like Adam was wrapped in his arms and covered by the comforter in Ronan’s bedroom at the Barns. It _wasn’t_. 

When Calla handed him a weird crochet bag with everything he’d asked for, Adam joined Henry in the living room and sat in an armchair far from the sofa. He made sure nobody was at arm’s reach, but that everybody could see him, in case anything happened… He let himself be distracted by Henry’s choice of TV show and tried to ignore the impending moment when he’d have to put his hands on Ronan. It didn’t matter that it’d be to heal him. He didn’t want to look at the forming bruises on his neck. He didn’t want to get a chance to let the demon surface back. He didn’t want to risk Ronan’s life. He didn’t want to lose anymore.

Adam directed his attention back to the screen. He watched as a bunch of doctors argued about disobeying orders and trying to save a patient, or do nothing and wait for an organ donor. He decided to analyze every character and evaluate every possible scenario to guess how the episode would end. Focusing on the blonde woman first, Stevens, he thought he heard, he began working his brains off.

xxx

Meanwhile, Ronan was racing against the clock to clean himself. He didn’t waste a second to think of _Adam Adam Adam_ or their latest conversation. Yeah, okay, he’d said he wouldn’t run away, but Ronan didn’t want to take a chance. Cheng didn’t know Adam Parrish like Ronan did, he’d be easily fooled while Adam made his escape. He didn’t waste his time thinking of Adam stitching him up nor did he fry his brain searching for a way to convince the stubborn shithead to let Ronan return the favor. 

Maybe Ronan was experiencing some residual adrenaline pumping in his veins, but he felt the need to rush while the events of the day washed away in a black stream down the drain. He almost didn’t notice he was using the fucking _purple soap_ that smelt like fucking _lavender_ Calla had given Adam. No, he didn’t blush at the thought of– He didn’t, okay?

He wasn’t even careful around his neck with his washcloth. He ground his teeth as the soap stung the cuts Adam’s fingernails had left behind. He shut his eyes as the shower head hit the open flesh on the nape of his neck, probably from writhing so hard on the ground as the demon unmade his whole being. He had bloody crescents in the palm of his hands from refusing to cry and scream and hit Adam. His lips, his eyebrow, his cheeks, his hands, his elbows, his back, his chest, his knees, he was all cut open and bleeding still. 

Ronan only waited for the water to turn mildly pink before getting out. He just wanted to get rid of the black goo. He just wanted to get back to Adam.

xxx

“Parrish!”

Adam’s head snapped to his right as he heard Ronan’s shout upstairs. He’d really been invested in whatever bullshit the doctors were pulling in the few minutes he’d paid attention. But now it was time. _Go face the music, Parrish_. Except the music was the fucking Murder Squash song. 

He passed Henry on the floor, the boy’s eyes glassy with tears barely retained. The patient’s life was hanging by a thread onscreen, and the team of doctors were desperate, not knowing what the hell they were doing to him to keep him alive. With Gansey’s too recent and improvised resurrection, Adam knew there was an analogy to be made somewhere in there, but he didn’t have the heart to dig deeper.

Adam attempted to make his way up calmly, but failed. He tripped on the second stair, cursing, drawing Ronan’s attention in the hallway. His shaved and wet head popped out the doorway. He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, droplets gliding down his too pale skin. Of course. He needed to be patched up. Not to look decent for Adam’s eyes. 

“Parrish, I’m already in need of your medical knowledge. Please don’t fuck yourself up anymore, or you’re not gonna like my bedside manners.” Ronan smirked at him.  
“You’re getting ahead of yourself if you think I’ll offer you a lollipop for being a good boy while I stab you with a needle.” Adam replied without thinking. Ronan only arched one brow, watching Adam decide if he wanted to roll with the innuendo or get pissed at Ronan’s dirty mind for even going there.  
“Fuck off, Lynch. It’s not wise to piss off your doctor before surgery. Never know how quickly an accident can happen.” Adam continued as sharply as he could.  
“My, is that a threat?”  
“Look at it as a prophecy that might or might not come true depending on you and your shitty attitude.”  
“How am I being shitty? I’m just super worried about you wrecking that pretty face of yours. You’re a danger to yourself.”

 _Ah. There it was._ The boys exchanged looks, neither daring to breathe with the words hanging in the air. Neither knew whether to focus on "pretty face" or "danger". Adam found the guts to move first, finishing his ascension of the stairs and pushing sharply past Ronan to enter the bathroom. Ronan followed his lead on not acknowledging the damages his words had done, and closed the door behind him. The room was getting stuffy again, so he moved to open the tiny window between the toilet and the shower. He wordlessly sat down on the closed toilet lid and waited for Adam to take care of him. But Adam took too long, hands shaking to try and empty the crocheted bag on the bathroom counter, purposely not looking at the large mirror. Everything was getting caught in the mesh. Ronan couldn’t hold his tongue.

“Got any witch stuff in there? A healing frog or some shit like that?” Ronan tightly smirked.  
“If Blue heard you… ‘We are sensible women, Ronan, not lunatic savages! But hey, you can shove a magic frog up your butt if it suits you! I sure won’t be the one stopping you! A-hole!’ “ Adam mimicked while pulling a Blue-typical face. 

Ronan sniggered. Adam smirked. It would have to be enough for what was to follow. Adam didn’t want to linger any more, but he dreaded the experience. Partly because he would be hurting Ronan, again, and even the fact that it was to care for him didn’t lessen the unease in his stomach. He also didn’t want to face Ronan, to really look into his eyes and see whatever it was he truly thought of him now. Most of Ronan’s injuries were located around his head. It would be a challenge to avoid his gaze.

“Okay, I’ll start with your back. Face away from me.” Adam instructed, and Ronan obliged without a snarky comment. 

Ronan’s scalp was mostly intact, so Adam focused his attention on the nape of his neck. The skin was torn, raw, glistening with a thin layer of translucent liquid that would soon become pus if untreated. Otherwise it was clean, but the wound was the size of golf ball. Adam had found Q-Tips and makeup tampons lying around the sink, so he poured the rubbing alcohol on them and began to work away. Ronan never once made a sound, but Adam could feel his jaw move when it tightened. Adam puffed his cheeks everytime "I’m sorry" was about to leave his lips.

 _I’m sorry, Ronan. So, so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t fight the demon. I’m sorry I can’t fight myself. I’m sorry you chose me… I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I never want to hurt you…_ He wanted to say so much. Still, he kept on gently cleaning Ronan’s wound. He took all his time, let himself drown into his intrusive thoughts, until Ronan turned to face him.

“I think it’s good now,” he softly spoke. “Here.” Ronan handed him a large rectangle of gauze.  
“Yeah, okay.” Adam replied, ashamed, eyes still avoiding contact.

Once the bandage was taped to the back of Ronan’s neck, Adam moved on to the minor cuts, but only to disinfect them. It was over too soon, and Adam both hated himself for thinking that and mentally thanked whatever god or entity that there wasn’t more damage. But now the real confrontation awaited him. He could go for Ronan’s hands, his split knuckles, but he knew he would break down at their touch. It was just too much, too intimate, too good for him. He so badly wanted to hold these hands, to soothe them, to kiss the tips of each finger, to place them on his own cheeks and shield himself from the world. However, Ronan’s lip and brow were mostly done bleeding and they needed stitches like, yesterday, if they wanted a chance to close up and heal properly. As for Ronan’s neck… That was an absolute no. Not yet. And so Adam had no choice. He took a deep breath, knowing Ronan would notice it but couldn’t suppress it nonetheless, and turned around to face the raven boy. 

He chose to start with the brow. He meticulously passed a thread through the eye of the needle, dabbed the excess of blood with a round pad, then looked at Ronan without really looking at him.

“You want something to hold or bite onto?”Adam asked before beginning his work.  
“Nah, got these suckers.” Ronan calmly replied while lifting his arm with the leather bands attached to his wrist.  
“‘Kay. I guess you already know it’s gonna hurt like hell, so I won’t bother with that. Here we go.”  
“Yee-fucking-haw.” Ronan added grimly.

Ronan could feel the air wiggle around Adam’s hands. They were shaking so, so much. He didn’t fear that Adam would do a bad job with his needle. He feared the real Adam, the one with the iron will and the sharp words, the boy with determined sky blue eyes and a grounded presence, _his_ Adam, had died with the demon thing. He had reflected, before, that he could lose Adam, that Adam could lose a lot even if he didn’t have much, but he never thought about Adam losing himself. He was supposed to be an eternal flame, a never ending ocean. Not a shell of a boy who was once _so much more._ He had never seen Adam as someone fragile, never pitied him for all the broken bits and violet bruises that made him _Adam._ Now, Ronan had a hard time figuring out how to behave around this brittle version of the boy he loved so fucking much. He only knew to be his shield and take all the blows until Adam glued himself back together. _But what if the pieces are lost forever?_ Ronan searched within himself for half a second only. _Then I’ll fucking be there forever. Try me._

Ronan was so deep into his thoughts that he was quite a bit startled when he realised Adam was already done stitching up his eyebrow. It had been painful, yes, and he had felt every entry and exit of the needle through his skin, but he hadn’t expected that Adam’s trembling hands would work so fast. Even if Adam stayed as faint as he’d been since the ordeal, in Ronan’s eyes, he’d never cease to be this amazing deity that defied all exploits. As Adam finished applying the Polysporin and the gauze, he looked down at Ronan.

“Your lip.”  
“What, my lip?” Ronan said the least sharply he could manage.  
“You do it yourself, or you want me to do it…? Or you just don’t give a shit and you leave it like that?” Adam asked.  
“Gimme.” Ronan answered, motioning to give the thread and needle.

Adam was relieved of his decision. Ronan got up to the mirror and began poking at himself without a single sound. That left Adam to wonder. _Isn't it sad that he and I have had to learn how to do stitches? Or is it courageous? Or…_

“Isn’t it pathetic how we both learned to stitch ourselves up for the sake of survival?” Adam spoke slowly.  
“Nah, it’s fucking badass. And sexy.” Ronan replied as he removed the needle from his lip, glancing mischievously at Adam in the mirror.  
“It is not sexy, Lynch. People don’t get turned on by the fact that I can stab myself with a needle, repeatedly, to prevent my skin from flapping open.” Adam shot back, crossing his arms on his chest.  
“Pshh, nonsense. I fucking love it.”  
“The skills part or the stabbing part?” Adam taunted.  
“The you part.” Ronan said, his face deadly serious.  
“Oh. Okay.”  
“Okay.”

Ronan resumed his stitching, letting Adam think. But Adam was on the verge of crumbling down. He felt so small. Infinitely tiny. A grain of sand in the universe. So easily lost… Dismissed… Forgotten… Inconsequential. How could he matter? How could he still matter to Ronan? He searched and searched and searched for an answer… With no avail. He could not think for Ronan. He could not think like Ronan. He could learn his complexed mechanisms, read the signs he threw him, but he could not birth a thought the way Ronan did. He could only think for himself. So that was what he did.

What if Ronan had strangled him, instead? _I would have pushed back, of course._ But would he have hurt him? Would he have wanted to? _No, of course not._ He’d never had to physically fight Ronan before. _Because we never let our fights get there. Because Ronan doesn’t want to hurt me. Because I don’t want to hurt him._ But he had. He couldn’t even remember what had passed through his head as his hands gripped Ronan’s neck. _So. Maybe you don’t remember fighting not to hurt him, but you don’t remember wanting to strangle him either… That counts as something, right?_ Does it really? _No… What matters is that I did it. And that is unforgivable. I don’t have the right to stay, to be his, to be a time bomb in his life._

“Hey, Earth to Parrish.” Ronan softly spoke, pulling Adam from his somber thoughts. He was done with his lip; it had bled some more and some of it was drying on his chin. He took a wet cloth and wiped the blood off, before going to sit back on the toilet lid. Adam watched him like a wolf watching over his pack, following Ronan’s every movements with his eyes only. Adam had lost the ability to speak. His tongue felt like lead, his throat like a desert. His gaze fell on Ronan’s wounded hands, and he was reminded of his duty here. _Clean, cover, care._

Adam took the little step stool by the door and placed it beside Ronan. He sat down, his eyes at a level slightly higher than Ronan’s knees. Adam did not look up. But Ronan looked down.

Adam was so gentle Ronan was barely feeling the sting of the alcohol on the flesh of his knuckles. But inside himself, Ronan felt a thousand elastics snap. He ached deeply, not knowing how to catch Adam before he hit rock bottom, not knowing how to reach out and keep him from harm. _What even are we? Where are the boundaries now? Can I touch him? Where do we stand? Can I survive being vulnerable right now? Can he?_ Ronan’s face remained stoic, but his mind was running faster than the wind. If he didn’t do anything, Adam would leave, and never come back. They didn’t even have the chance to… _To what? Be fucking boyfriends? To fool around? Shit, what the fuck. God, why it so unfair?_ Ronan had never let himself consider this before. There was no place for the childish "Why me?" after his father was killed, after he was removed from his home, after he discovered he was the Greywaren, even when he’d realised he liked boys and not girls. Questioning God’s plans were not part of Ronan’s survival guide, so he just went along with it while cursing everybody in his way. He blamed everyone, including himself. But he did not ask for justice. _I want to keep this. I want to keep being with him. I want… I want him to come back. To me._

In that moment, telepathy might have been questioned, as Adam felt the weight of Ronan’s feelings on his heart. He just knew that Ronan was not letting go. That he would never, if given the chance. And despite his guilt, his shame, his doubts, Adam desperately wanted, needed, to hold on to Ronan. _Catch me. Please, please catch me, Ronan. Don’t let me go._

It was then that Adam’s vision blurred with tears. He was touching up the plasters on Ronan’s fists, but he stopped. His chest tightened. The air left his lungs. A weight sank in his stomach. _Catch me catch me catch me._ He felt like screaming. He felt like curling on the floor. He felt like disappearing. It was as if being possessed all over again, except the demon was just Adam’s mind now. _Help me help me help me. I’m dying dying dying._ Tears kept welling up and he could not hold back anymore. He let them fall. Adam held onto the only thing he could think of: Ronan’s hands.

Ronan watched painfully as Adam lowered his forehead on his freshly bandaged hands, back and shoulders trembling with silent cries. Adam did not forbid himself to cry like Ronan did, because Adam simply wasn’t someone to waste time on tears. So technically, Ronan was never faced with a broken down Adam; he did not know how to embrace Adam.

That did not mean his body was clueless as well. Ronan’s arms moved without missing a beat, his legs pulled him towards Adam’s limp shape.

Never letting go of their joined hands. 

This was the breaking point of Ronan and Adam, leaving only in its wake everything that made them Ronan-and-Adam.

Ronan sat down on the floor, pulling Adam with him and encasing the shaking boy with his legs, his chest flush against Adam’s back. He held Adam’s curled body tightly in his arms. He rested his chin on Adam’s right shoulder, his hearing side. Cheek to cheek. Hands in hands. Heartbeat against heartbeat.

Ronan began rocking, ever so slowly. Adam leaned into him, fully.  
Ronan began crying, ever so silently. Adam let his emotions unfold, fully.

They were not a mess. They were beautiful. 

xxx

Adam was the first to speak up, though it was more like a whisper. 

“I’m sorry. I need to say it, Ronan. I’m so sorry...” Adam croaked out, his temple pushing against Ronan’s jaw to translate his sentiment.  
“It’s okay you say it. It’s okay. As long as you don’t believe you owe me an apology. ‘Cause you don’t.” Ronan whispered back, holding Adam closer.  
“I- I get it. Why you didn’t… hurt me. But, Ronan- If you chose death over hurting me, you have to understand, you have to know what me hurting you means to _me_ …”  
“I want to hear it.” Ronan softly said, no trace of venom or command in his voice.  
“...Okay.” Adam gathered his thoughts. “You know my pride. You know my need for control over my own life. You have seen the man that… put me into this world, this life. Up close. You have also witnessed me trying to get away, in every way I possibly can, from him. Yet I always seem to come back to what he is: a violent Parrish. Could the demon have found true violence in Gansey? In Blue? In Henry? I don’t think so... Not even in you, I believe. It found _me_. And it didn’t make me do anything. It just found the way Parrishes work and pushed me down the road, used my trash legacy to get to the gang. To get to you. Because everytime I let myself want something, or someone... My blood gets in the way and ruins it. I ruin it.” 

Adam was crying loudly now. Ronan could feel the trembles that came with every word. He didn’t say anything. He knew it wasn’t over yet. He removed one of his hands to reach in his back pocket and took out a small tin. Manibus. As Adam continued letting out his grief, Ronan showed him tenderness. He started massaging his right hand, applying pressure in the center of the palm, gently caressing each finger, moving his thumbs in small circles on the back of Adam’s hand. Before Adam could interrupt the caring gesture, Ronan answered the worldless question that had formed in his tensing shoulders. “I brought it back when I was downstairs dreaming and you were in the shower. Suspected it’d be of use.” Ronan spoke in a whisper so low, even Adam had to focus on the lips by his good ear to make sure he hadn’t dreamed the words. This was the eye of the hurricane. They would do anything to preserve the painful calmness they’d managed to wrap themselves in. Ronan moved on to Adam’s left hand, soothing the ache lodged deep in Adam’s bones and soul. 

_Ronan is here. He’s here. With me. Somehow, we’re both here. Together. If there really is a God above, please let me have this. Just this. Just him._ Adam squeezed Ronan’s hands as tightly as he could without hurting him. Without ever letting go, he turned around between Ronan’s legs to face him, but he couldn’t face him yet. And as his tears overflowed once again, Adam buried his face in the crook of Ronan’s neck, just below the bruising marks. He held on for dear life, absorbing the heat of Ronan’s bare chest, focusing only on _Ronan, Ronan, Ronan…_ Adam did not move as he resumed talking.

“Gansey told me not to break you, you know? I’m not sure if he was talking about your well-hidden traumas or my shitty habit of fucking up everything I try to have. I’m still going for the latter. But then- Then- Damn it, Ronan, you were dying right before my eyes! Right under my hands! Me. Breaking you. And you. Didn’t. Do. A. Thing. And I was wrong. Gansey was wrong. It didn’t break you. Not like it broke me... What I’m trying to say is... I know what I’m capable of, I know I have the power to break you. I know I could chew you and spit you out if I wanted to, and you’d let me, because you gave me that power. But, Ronan… You have the power to break me, too. I gave it to you, willingly, even if I didn’t know it at first. And it scares me so much, Ronan… Because now I have everything to lose. That's the conclusion I’ve come to.”

Ronan slowly untangled Adam from him, keeping contact only with the tip of their fingers. He swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat and the tremors of his voice.

“That’s okay. I’ve already had more than I could ever dreamed of. I won’t take or ask any more from you and-” Ronan painfully spoke before being interrupted.

“You stupid-ass prick. I swear to God, Lynch, you’ve never been so dense.” Adam laughed darkly and wetly.

Adam lifted his chin up to look into Ronan’s arctic eyes. Carefully, he placed his palms on each cheek of the dreamer, gently stroking them with his thumbs. He made sure to capture Ronan’s gaze before admitting what could be called _Adam Parrish’s Last Secret._

“This feels... final. And I’m okay with that.”

“You telling me I’m it for you, Parrish?” Ronan joked, the usual bite absent from his tone.

Adam didn’t think twice.

“Yes, Lynch. That's exactly what I'm telling you. It’s you or no one else, ever. I- I know it. And I don’t care if I end up alone in a cave or if Cupid suddenly bit my ass. If it’s not you, I don’t want it. What I want is to take care of you. I want to be the one by your side. I want you to be the one by mine. I feel things for you I thought were beaten out of me. I’m so scared, but… I want to keep on feeling, and I only want to go on with you. I want my feelings to be for you. I know we won’t stop fighting and hurting each other and not speak for days… But I only want you. And I- I…” Adam whispered with tears rolling down his face.

“Shh… I know you can’t say it right now… Don’t push it, okay? I know, Adam… I know.” Ronan whispered back as he placed his hands over Adam’s on his face.

Adam sighed, of relief or exasperation, he did not know.

“I choose you, Ronan. So please, please… I am begging you, without any shame whatsoever: stay with me. Give us a chance to become shitty old men together. Give us a shot at growing impossibly, grossly happy. You have me, Ronan, in this reality and every other. Let me have you, too… Run to me, not danger. Better, don’t run at all. Just stay here, in this life, with me.”

Both were breathless, even if only one had spilled his heart out. 

Adam Parrish felt like he'd finished a marathon that'd started the day he was born.

Ronan Lynch felt like all the air that'd been knocked out of him since his father's murder was now coming back to him.

As if in slow motion, Ronan removed Adam’s hands from his cheeks and brought them to his lips. Closing his eyes, he kissed every knuckle, every fingertip, each palm, all of these hands that held his whole future. The ever "show-don't-tell" that made him a miracle among men. Drawn in by Ronan’s light, Adam leaned until his forehead met with his dreamer’s. 

They kissed as if it was the one moment they would live in forever. It was epic yet tender, explosive yet quiet. Fire without burning. Ocean without drowning. Their lips met again and again and again… Even when they would catch their breath, when their lips would hover without really touching, the two raven boys never really let go of each other, for Ronan and Adam were now _Ronan &Adam_, their hearts tied together with a familiar ribbon.


End file.
